


abc, easy as one, two, three

by jemmasimmmons



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn Relationship, single parent!fitz, single parent/teacher au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 15:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7469325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jemmasimmmons/pseuds/jemmasimmmons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"‘Daddy,’ Ada butts in, pushing herself between both of them. ‘This is Miss Simmons. She does an even better Gruffalo voice than you do!’</p><p>And that is how Fitz knows that this Miss Simmons must be someone very special. Nobody does a better Gruffalo voice than he does."</p><p>In which Fitz falls for Jemma and they both have a lot to learn. A single parent/teacher AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	abc, easy as one, two, three

**Author's Note:**

> yes, the cardboard rocket ship is a nod to my own reception experiences. i bloody loved that rocket.
> 
> title comes from the jackson five (but you all knew that.) find me on tumblr @jeemmasimmons.

 

_reception_

When Leopold Fitz had parked up to collect his four-year-old daughter from her first day at school, he had been fully prepared.

He had been prepared for her tears. He had been prepared for her tantrums. He had been prepared for every plea and doe-eyed bargain she would make to try and get him to promise her that she would never have to go back, ever again. In short, he had been fully prepared for her to be him, back on his very first day at school.

The only thing Fitz had not been prepared for was for Ada to come hurtling towards him across the playground with her socks around her ankles, a smear of paint in her hair and a great, beaming grin on her face.

‘Daddy!’

The sound of her voice is enough to make his heart swoop, and he bends down to catch her before she barrels into his knees, lifting her up to sit her on his hip. Ada loops her skinny arms around his neck and Fitz feels a lump appear in his throat; they’d only been apart for six hours, but any time he spends away from his daughter feels like a lifetime.

‘Hi, munchkin.’ He peels her away from his neck so he can see her face. ‘Are you alright? Good day?’

Ada nods vigorously as he sets her back down on the ground again. ‘I did finger painting and the sand pit _and_ we read _The Gruffalo_ at storytime.’

‘ _The Gruffalo_ , huh?’ Fitz swallows hard, knowing what an awful father he must be to be actually _offended_ that his four-year-old enjoys school. ‘That’s your favourite.’

But Ada isn’t listening to him anymore – another small boy is walking past with his parents and she is waving to him as he leaves. Fitz busies himself with checking her rucksack so he doesn’t have to watch.

‘Addie, where’s your cardigan?’

She frowns. ‘Dunno.’

Exasperated, Fitz shakes his head. ‘Well, we can’t go home without it. Think, Addie, where could you have left it?’

Ada’s frown deepens, and then her eyes light up. ‘It’ll be on my peg! We each have a peg to hang our things on, Daddy, with a picture on it so we know it’s ours. Mine has a ladybird on it.’

‘Did you know,’ Fitz says her, as he tucks her hand into his, ‘that a ladybird can eat as many as five thousand aphids during its lifetime?’

When Ada shakes her head, her eyes wide, he squeezes at her hand. ‘Do you reckon we can go back in and get it?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Ada starts to drag him across the playground to the door she’s just come out of. ‘Miss Simmons is still inside and she won’t mind.’

‘Miss Simmons,’ Fitz repeats, holding the door open so Ada can slip inside. ‘She’s your teacher, yeah?’

Ada nods, but her attention is already being drawn away from him and back into the brightly coloured classroom. Fitz follows her, taking in the vibrant crepe paper covering the walls, the painted hand prints on the carpet and the papier-mâché caterpillar on the ceiling. There is so much colour in such a small room that it’s almost dizzying.

It’s no wonder, he thinks, that his exuberant daughter loves being here so much.

‘Hello, Ada!’ The sound of a cheery voice pulls Fitz out of his daze and brings him back down to earth. ‘Back again so soon?’

He tries to look around for the source of the voice, but all he can see is a mass of cardboard wobbling towards him, taped together in the vague shape of a rocket.

‘I forgot my cardigan,’ Ada explains, apparently completely unfazed by the moving heap of cardboard, and darts off to a row of hooks on the far side of the room to retrieve it.

The rocket-shaped cardboard pile touches down, and a young woman steps out from behind it with a roll of masking tape on her wrist like a bracelet and an array of pencils stuck in her hair. She is dressed in a pink floral pinafore with pastel yellow shoes and looking at her gives Fitz the same dizzying feeling as her classroom.

He feels his mouth run dry as she steps towards him, grinning broadly and with her hand extended.

‘And you must be Mr Fitz! Pleasure to meet you.’

He can only nod dumbly as she shakes his hand, her bright smile never wavering.

‘Daddy,’ Ada butts in, pushing herself between both of them. ‘This is Miss Simmons. She does an even better Gruffalo voice than you do!’

And that is how Fitz knows that this Miss Simmons must be someone very special.

 _Nobody_ does a better Gruffalo voice than he does.

 

_year one_

The automated message left on Fitz’s phone had asked him if it were possible for him to make his way down to the school as soon as he was able, but it hadn’t said _why_ and that was what was really worrying him.

 _Asthma attack_ , he thinks as he begs his boss to let him leave early, even though Ada isn’t asthmatic. _Lightning strike_ , he thinks as he jumps into his car and starts the ignition, even though there isn’t a cloud in the sky.   _A gas explosion at the school_ , he thinks, even as he is directed towards the first year classroom.

Almost as soon as the door is opened, he is searching for Ada and when he sees her standing next to the teacher’s desk, whole and well and alive, he cannot help but give a sigh of relief.

‘Mr Fitz.’ Miss Simmons steps out from behind the desk and smiles at him. Today, she is wearing an orange cardigan and a deep blue skirt that swishes around her knees when she moves. ‘Thank you for coming down.’

‘Yeah, no problem,’ he manages to say, taking a hesitate step towards her. His eyes flicker down to his daughter, who is scuffing the floor with her shoe and has her head cast down. ‘What…what’s this about?’

Miss Simmons’ smile wavers and she purses her lips together. ‘I’m afraid there was a small incident this morning at break and Ada was…involved.’

‘Involved? How?’

Ada looks up into her teacher’s face, an all too familiar beseeching expression written across her features and Fitz watches Miss Simmons sigh reluctantly. ‘It appears that Ada _bit_ one of her classmates.’

‘She did _what_?’ He gapes at his daughter in horror. ‘Adeline Louise!’

‘But it wasn’t bad biting!’ Ada insists, turning her pleading eyes on him.

‘ _All_ biting is bad biting!’

‘In Ada’s defence,’ Miss Simmons offers, ‘it appears she wasn’t being as included in the children’s game as she would have liked to have been and this was merely her way of asking them to include her. In the animal kingdom, the young of a species often use physical interactions such as biting to gain attention, you know. A lot of species even consider it healthy and prosocial behaviour.’

‘All biting,’ Fitz repeats, shooting her a pointed look, ‘is bad biting.’

Miss Simmons has the decency to flush, and the audacity to make it the most adorable thing Fitz has seen since the first time Ada had smiled at him when she was just a week old. ‘Oh, yes. Absolutely.’ She clears her throat. ‘Addie, would you like to go next door and start writing that apology letter we discussed? I’ll come and help you when I’ve finished speaking with your daddy.’

Ada nods and slopes past him into the next classroom, her shoulders slumped dejectedly. Fitz clenches his fist tightly to stop himself from reaching out to hug her, reminding himself that she _bit_ someone, _his_ daughter _bit_ another _child_.

Once Ada has left, Miss Simmons seems slightly more flustered and asks him if he wants to sit down.

‘No, no.’ Fitz shakes his head, for once in his life feeling like a giant amongst the five-year-old sized furniture in the room. ‘I’m okay.’

Miss Simmons nods, her hands twisting together in front of her. ‘We’re doing the animal kingdom next term,’ she blurts. ‘Lions and giraffes and pandas and such like. I’ve been reading up on it for weeks, I’ve taken so many books out of the library that I think the librarians are beginning to wonder if I’m making a career change to zoology and…’

‘Miss Simmons…’

‘Oh, please,’ she says, a little breathlessly. ‘Call me Jemma.’

‘Jemma,’ Fitz repeats, trying out her name in his mouth and feeling a slight shock at how much he likes how it sounds. ‘I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me.’

‘I shouldn’t have said what I did about the biting in front of Ada,’ she admits reluctantly, letting her hands fall by her side. ‘I only read it last night and I felt like it was applicable to the situation but I don’t think it was in the end.’

Fitz snorts. ‘Yeah, I’d really rather my five-year-old didn’t go around thinking biting was _pro_ social behaviour, thank you very much.’

‘I know.’ Jemma sighs and offers him a sheepish smile. ‘I just get very excited, you know? About what I can teach the children and about what I can make _them_ excited about.’

Fitz thinks about the time Ada had willingly put on a dress to join in the Medieval Fair being thrown in the school playground, and the time she had come home proudly clutching a papier-mâché ball decorated with glitter and sequins and declared that it was Pluto. She had spouted astronomy facts for him for months and still insisted that they star gaze whenever they could.

He couldn’t imagine that there was anything Jemma Simmons _couldn’t_ make exciting.

‘Yeah, I know,’ he says softly. When he sees a flicker of confusion pass over her face, he quickly clears his throat and adds: ‘maybe you could skip the part about prosocial biting though, eh?’

Jemma grimaces, tilting her head to one side. ‘Yes, I think that’s probably for the best.’

‘I’ll talk to Ada. About the biting. I’ll tell her she needs to…I dunno…use her words instead. Or something like that.’

That makes Jemma laugh, so hard she actually tips her head so that Fitz can see the creamy base of her neck. ‘Use her words. Yes, I like that.’ She smiles and takes a step forward to shake his hand. ‘Thank you ever so much for coming down, Mr Fitz.’

Fitz can only nod, trying desperately hard to ignore how rapidly his heart is thumping in his chest at the feel of her hand inside his own.

‘Any time.’

 

‘When we want somebody’s attention,’ Fitz says later as he drives them home that afternoon, ‘we do not hurt them. We do not scratch, and we do not kick and we _certainly_ do not bite. Got that?’

Ada nods miserably. ‘I didn’t want to hurt her.’

‘I know.’ Fitz thinks about little lion cubs biting in a prosocial manner to obtain attention, and then shakes the image from his head. ‘I know you didn’t, munchkin. Just…next time, use your words, yeah?’

‘Use my words,’ Ada mutters under her breath, cementing them into her knowledge. She sinks back into her car seat and Fitz exhales slowly, infinitely relieved that his immediate parenting duty is over for now. ‘I heard Miss Simmons laughing when I was in the other room. Were you using your words with her?’

Fitz almost drives them both off the road.

‘Um, yeah. Something like that.’

 

_year two_

‘Mr Fitz! Over here!’

Fitz feels the tips of his ears turn pink and he turns in the school hall to see Jemma waving at him from behind her table, a delighted smile on her face. He waves awkwardly back and heads towards her, hesitating only momentarily before sitting down in the child-sized chair opposite her. Once seated, his knees almost come up to his chin.

‘Uh, hi again,’ he says. ‘Pretty busy around here today.’

Jemma nods in agreement, her head bent as she sorts through a stack of pastel coloured papers in front of her. ‘Parent’s Evening is always fairly hectic around here. But you’ve found me now!’ She glances past him to the rest of the hall, scanning the sea of faces as if she is waiting for someone else to join them.

Fitz glances over his shoulder. ‘Are…are you looking for someone?’

‘I was just curious as to whether Mrs Fitz would be joining us today.’

‘There, uh, isn’t one.’ Jemma’s face falls, and Fitz feels the need to jump in and diffuse the situation before she starts to apologise unnecessarily. ‘Not unless you count my mum, but honestly I think asking her to attend her granddaughter’s Parent’s Evening when she’s already had to suffer through all of mine is a cruel and unusual punishment.’

A ghost of a smile passes over Jemma’s face and she glances up at him, both an apology and a reassurance shining in her face. She’s a modern primary school teacher, Fitz reminds himself. She’s probably seen a lot worse than a single father with a peer-biting daughter.

Smiling back at her, his shoulders relax ever so slightly.

‘So,’ Jemma starts, pulling a pale green sheet of paper out in front of her. ‘Where to start?’ Fitz watches her finger scan down the page and he notices that her nails are painted a pearly pink. ‘Ah!’ She jabs her finger at the paper and beams up at him. ‘Academically, Ada is doing extremely well. She’s enthusiastic in her learning and is performing at above average levels for her age group.’

Fitz tries hard not to puff out his chest in pride, and tries to nod serenely. ‘That’s good.’

Jemma nods in agreement. ‘Excellent really. And after that – ahem – minor hiccup last year, she’s also doing very well socially. She’s popular among her classmates and friendly to everyone. She has a large group of friends, it seems.’

‘ _Really_?’

The surprise in his voice makes her laugh and Fitz quickly shakes his head.

‘Not that she shouldn’t have friends,’ he hastily corrects himself, ‘it’s just…well, it’s reassuring to hear you say it.’

‘Then I’ll say it as many times as you want me to.’ Jemma leans forward on the table, her amber eyes wide and earnest. ‘Ada is doing very, very well. You should be proud of her, and of yourself.’ She smiles at him. ‘You’re clearly a wonderful father.’

Fitz blusters, folding his arms across his chest. ‘Well, now…I wouldn’t say that…’

‘Which is why I’ve said it for you.’ The firmness in her tone is enough to make a warmth bloom inside his chest and he can’t help but grin as she folds the green paper over and hands it over to him. ‘Well, I think that really covers everything I have to say. Do you have any questions for me?’

 _Too many_ , he thinks, before shaking his head. ‘Um, _I_ don’t have any questions but Ada gave me a couple she wanted me to ask for her.’

Jemma chuckles, and Fitz watches as the corners of her eyes crinkle as she smiles. ‘Of course she does.’ She shifts in her seat, tucking her hands between her knees. ‘Let’s hear them, then.’

He tugs the rumpled piece of paper his daughter had given him before he’d left out of his pocket and clears his throat. ‘” _Question number one: whose go kart design did you really think was the best last week?_ ” The ‘really’’, he adds, ‘is underlined. Heavily. If that helps.’

‘It does.’

Jemma frowns, her eyebrows creasing together as she considers. Fitz finds that as he is watching her, he is holding his breath.

‘You can tell Ada,’ she says after a moment. ‘That I didn’t think there was one particular _best_ design. Everyone’s designs had some sort of merit, which was why we took elements from each design to make our final one. However,’ here, her eyes begin to twinkle. ‘I do think that in terms of creative use of dried pasta, hers certainly stood out from the crowd.’

It is a wonderfully diplomatic answer, and one that will satisfy Ada to no end.

‘And the second question is: “ _what is our topic going to be next term?_ ”’

‘Ah!’ Jemma sits up a little straighter, clearly excited by the question. ‘I only decided last night – we’re going to do Under The Sea.’

‘Under The Sea,’ Fitz repeats.

‘Yes! It’s a very versatile topic, we can cover animal life, plant life, stories set in the sea and the technology of deep sea travel.’ She brushes a strand of hair back behind her ear. ‘I’m booking a trip to the aquarium and was even considering constructing a cardboard submarine…’

Fitz nods, easily able to imagine how interesting she will be able to make the topic and already knowing how much Ada will adore it. ‘Sounds perfect.’

Jemma exhales, and smiles up at him almost nervously, as if she had been hoping for his approval. ‘I hope so.’

When he gets up to leave she stands with him, stepping out from behind the table and smoothing her skirt down with the palms of her hands. Fitz can see a pair of discarded heels by her chair and as she pads out in front of him in her bare feet he notices that she’s a lot shorter than he had first thought.

‘Have a good night, Mr Fitz,’ she tells him softly and reaches out to shake his hand.

‘Uh, and you too.’

She squeezes his palm as she turns away, and it is this little extra touch that gives him the courage to call her back.

‘Miss Simm- Jemma!’

She looks back at him, her eyes wide and questioning.

Fitz takes a deep breath.

‘If you…if you need any help with it – with the trip to the aquarium, or building the submarine – I’d like to. I’d like to…to help.’

He watches, as the understanding dawns and her entire face lights up.

‘I think I’d like that.’ Jemma beams at him as she sits back down in her chair, bouncing slightly so that her hair jumps around her shoulders. ‘I think I’d like that a lot.’

 

_year three_

Ada is running the three-legged race with her left leg tied with a scarf to her friend Sadiq’s right. Watching them hobble their way towards the finish line, Fitz cannot help but marvel at how brilliantly they work as a team, even though Ada is at least half a head taller and Sadiq’s glasses fell off half way through.

Together, they are a force of nature.

His daughter and her friend reach the finish line first and Fitz whoops, clapping his hands until they are red raw as he watches Jemma jump up and down in her excitement before bestowing a pair of plastic medals over the winners’ necks.

Still tied to Sadiq, Ada launches herself forward to hug her waist and would have brought the poor boy to his knees if Jemma hadn’t bent forward to catch them. With a flick of her wrist, she pulls the scarf attaching them away and sends them off to get a drink of water while she passes out bags of sweeties to the other participants.

She glances up and catches Fitz’s eye and, even from half way across the school playing field, Fitz is almost blinded by the smile she gives him. He returns her eager thumbs up before reluctantly trudging his own way to the starting line of the race track, sorely regretting having given in to both his daughter and his best friend’s pleading and agreeing to take part in the father’s race.

‘On your marks…’ he hears Jemma call through cupped hands, ‘get set…GO!’

He hears her whistle blow and then he is off, pumping his arms and puffing out his cheeks in an attempt to keep up with the other dads, all of whom appear to emulating professional athletes out for a morning jog for all the effort they seem to be putting into their race.

Up ahead, he can see Jemma at the finish line and she’s jumping again and her mouth keeps opening and closing but he can’t hear her. He can’t hear anything but the blood pounding in his temples.

Fitz is just realising that maybe he’s not actually doing as badly as he thinks he is when his shoe gets caught on a clump of grass. Losing his balance, he flails forward and, with a startled yelp, he falls, skidding painfully along the ground for a few feet before coming to a halt.

His entire body feels like it is on fire and he groans, pulling his arms out from under him with a wince.

‘Fitz!’

Jemma’s panicked voice sounds like it is coming from right above him and suddenly her cool hands are on the back of his neck and his side, carefully rolling him over.

‘’m okay,’ he mumbles, just in case Ada is nearby, then spits out a mouthful of dirt. ‘’m okay.’

‘You’re bleeding,’ Jemma says, reaching out to touch him at his hairline. Her fingers come away red and Fitz can’t tell whether it is the sight of that or the worry etched on her forehead that makes his head spin. ‘Come on, I’ll get you cleaned up.’

She hands over her whistle to another teacher and offers him both her hands. With a grunt, Fitz lets her heave him to his feet and reluctantly allows himself to be guided across the playground towards the school.

‘I’m fine, Jemma,’ he says as they trudge down the corridor, his arm slung across the nape of her neck where he can feel her pulse beating. ‘Honestly.’

‘Oh, really?’ She raises an eyebrow at him. ‘Then why am I carrying _both_ our weight to my classroom?’

Fitz winces again and tries to stop leaning so heavily on her shoulder. ‘Sorry.’

Jemma rolls her eyes fondly at him as she eases him off her and down onto her desk. ‘Fitz, it’s _fine_.’ She detaches the first aid kit from the wall and undoes the clips, pulling out a cotton ball and a bottle of antiseptic. ‘Head or hands first?’

Fitz stares down at his palms, which are bright red and covered in a noughts and crosses board of cuts and scrapes. ‘Hands.’

Tipping the bottle upside down onto the cotton ball, Jemma reaches for his left hand and holds it up to scrutinise the scratches before dabbing the ball onto his palm.

‘Are you coming around tomorrow night?’ Fitz asks, to try and distract himself from the burning of the antiseptic on his hand and the brushing of her bare knee against his shorts. ‘I’ve got pizza and we can get a DVD.’

‘Urgh.’ Jemma pulls a face. ‘I can’t. I still have to finish the class reports. How about Sunday?’

‘No good either. Addie’s got a ballet class.’

Jemma motions for his other hand and he gives it to her obediently. For a moment they are both quiet, each absorbed in examining their own private subject – for her, it is his hands; for him, it is her heart.

‘What about Monday night?’ Fitz ventures after a few minutes.

Jemma huffs, disappointed. ‘I have to stay late here. I’m taking down all the displays for their construction projects, although God knows how I’m going to manage to get them up without breaking them.’

He perks up. ‘I can do that! Addie’s sleeping around a friend’s house so I can come in and stay late with you. Even help fix the stuff you break if you like.’

Jemma smiles, and Fitz watches how it brightens her face in the way he can still see when he closes his eyes. ‘If you promise to bring that pizza with you, it’s a deal.’ When he nods, she bounces slightly on the balls of her feet and picks up another cotton wool pad. ‘Stay still now.’

She moves closer to him and puts one hand on his shoulder to steady herself as she leans forward to clean the cut on his forehead. Fitz tries to stay as still as he can for her, but it’s hard when he can feel her fingertips through his shirt sleeve and her breath on his cheek. She is being gentle, slowly wiping away the dirt and the blood, and he has to fight not to close his eyes.

‘We seem to spend a lot of our relationship inside this room,’ Jemma teases. ‘Remember when we first met?’

‘The cardigan,’ Fitz remembers, a small grin creeping onto his face. ‘And then the biting incident too…’

She chuckles. ‘And then countless late nights and early mornings…’

‘…preparations for school fetes…’

‘…and the secret glass of wine after that _awful_ trip to the aquarium.’

‘Oh, God.’ Fitz shudders. ‘Don’t remind me. I was smelling fish underneath my nails for weeks for weeks.’

Jemma snorts and shifts slightly, angling her body so that it is pressed almost completely flat against his. She moves her hand to his neck to push herself further up and get a better view of his cut and Fitz brings his own hand up to her waist quickly, so that she doesn’t fall.

This close, he can smell the heady, lavender scent of her perfume at the base of her neck.

‘I wouldn’t change them though,’ Jemma whispers and he looks up at her, his head tilting back. ‘All our moments here, little and big. I wouldn’t change them for the world.’

Fitz feels his heart jump in his chest.

‘Yeah,’ he murmurs. ‘Neither would I.’

He doesn’t mean to kiss her, he really doesn’t. But her head is tipping unexpectedly forward and her hand is falling away from his neck and it just happens.

Like it’s a force of nature.

Jemma gasps into him the first time their lips brush and Fitz feels a small spark pass between them, a slight static shock as their bodies touch.

Her lips are soft against his, and they taste like cherries and mint toothpaste, and there is a sudden rush of something light and something bright and something _good_ in his bloodstream as, for one miraculous moment, she kisses him back.

But then Jemma loses her balance and she staggers backwards, breaking them apart. Fitz sucks in a breath, his head spinning, and for an instant he thinks what he had thought the first time he’d seen her: _she’s utterly dizzying_.

It is only then that he notices that Jemma is trembling. Her fingers are pressed against her lips and her mouth is parted, as if she is speaking but no words are coming out. She looks up at him and Fitz feels his heart sink into his shoes when he notices that her eyes are shining with tears.

 _A bad idea_ , he thinks. _That was such a bad idea_.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he stutters out, sliding clumsily off the desk, his mind still fuzzy and his vision blurring. ‘I am so, so sorry.’

Without waiting, he staggers past her and out into the corridor before she can see the tears welling up in his own eyes.

The last thing he sees before leaving the room is Jemma gingerly running her fingers across her lips, as if he has left a stain there and she is mapping out the places he has changed her forever.

 

_year four_

The next year, Jemma isn’t Ada’s teacher.

There was an emergency, Ada tells him when she slopes home after her first day back. The reception teacher had left very suddenly, and Jemma had to step in to take over his class for the year.

It is the first time Fitz has seen his daughter miserable after a day of school.

Throughout the year, he avoids the school as much as he can. When he does have to go in, he holds his breath and keeps his eyes stubbornly fixed on the floor in front of him, lest he catch sight of a brightly coloured skirt or amber eyes.

Ada doesn’t say anything, but Fitz knows that she misses Jemma’s presence just as bitterly as he does. Without either of them noticing it, their little unit of two had gradually become one of three and now there feels like there is a gaping hole in both their lives.

There is something missing, and Fitz has absolutely no idea how he is supposed to find it again.

 

_year five_

If it’s possible, Fitz thinks that the pint-sized chairs in the school hall are even smaller than they had been several years ago. It feels like he’s having to lower himself even further down to reach the seat and he hears his knees click as he sits down with a groan, something they hadn’t done before.

The chairs are most definitely smaller. Or maybe he is just getting older.

There is a hum of excited chatter around him as parents gather in the hall, calling out to one another and shaking hands. Fitz has taken a chair at the back of the hall where he can see the stage and he watches them all filing in to find their seats together.

It’s Jemma’s play they’ve come to watch, one that she has written and directed and costumed herself. Even the program he holds in his hand is hers; the play’s title is printed in her favourite font and each of the casts’ names is typed in a different colour. Fitz feels a pang in the centre of his chest, and he folds the program in two and tucks it into his pocket.

‘I can’t tell you what it’s about,’ Ada had said very seriously the day she had come home and told him Miss Simmons was writing a play. ‘Because that would ruin the surprise for when you come and watch it. But,’ here, she had sat up a little straighter, ‘I can tell you that I get to play the second octopus.’

‘What sort of play,’ Fitz had questioned, ‘requires multiple octopi?’

Ada had rolled her eyes at him. ‘This one. _Obviously_.’

And she had stuck to her word, because now Fitz is sitting in the audience surrounded by other parents and he still has no idea what the play is going to be about.

The lights fall low and the humming hushes and, with a slight creak on the ropes, the curtain starts to open.

It’s a fairly simple story as far as plays go – a journey, really – but it’s not until about fifteen minutes in that Fitz realises that it’s not just any story.

It’s _their_ story.

In retrospect, the line the main character gives about all biting being bad biting ought to have given it away, but it isn’t until the faded cardboard rocket ship is shuffled across the stage that Fitz’s mind starts to tick and he feels his heart start to beat just a little bit faster.

By the time Ada hobbles onto the stage dressed as the second octopus during the protagonists’ trip to the aquarium, Fitz has tears starting to roll down his face. _Of course_ , he thinks, _of course this play requires multiple octopi_.

The audience is obliging enough, and laughs when they’re supposed to and ‘aww’s at appropriate moments, but they all fall silent when the young girl playing the main character’s best friend steps forward to talk to him.

‘I’ve never cared,’ she says, her projection reaching all the way to the back of the hall, ‘about where I was going. It didn’t matter, as long as I was going there with you. And it still doesn’t matter. I want to keep on moving forward and I want to keep on moving forward with you.’

The girl’s voice is monotone, and she seems hardly interested in what she is saying, but it doesn’t matter because it’s not her voice that Fitz is hearing.

The only person he can hear saying her words is Jemma.

At the end of the play, the entire cast comes out onto the stage to take a bow. Fitz stands with the rest of the parents to clap and cheer as the children join hands along the edge of the stage. Spotting him, Ada’s eyes light up, and she quickly drops her friend’s hand and dashes back behind the curtain. When she comes out again, she is dragging a flushing Jemma with her.

The audience’s cheers rise again for her and Fitz watches as Jemma lets them wash over her, holding out her arms to show that it was her pupil that deserved the claps and laughing when the head teacher presents her with a bouquet of daisies.

But then she looks out, scanning the audience desperately, and when she catches his gaze and holds it she appears to such in a breath, and an unreadable expression passes over her face. Abruptly, she hands her bouquet to Ada and disappears off the stage.

Without thinking, Fitz pushes his way out of his row and heads through the back door to follow her off the stage, half running out of the hall in his haste not to lose her.

He needn’t have worried though. It seems that when she’d left the stage Jemma had been thinking almost exactly the same thing as him, and as soon as he bursts out into the playground he sees her, just tumbling out of the next door down.

She pauses for half a heartbeat, just long enough for Fitz too see her face split into a radiant smile, and then she is running for him, with her skirt swishing around her knees and her hair bouncing on her shoulders, and before he knows quite what is happening her arms are around his neck and her lips are falling against his.

The kiss feels exactly as Fitz remembers it – soft and gentle and tasting of sunshine – and there is a familiar spark that lights up inside his chest when he winds his hands back into Jemma’s hair as she kisses him, like her kiss reaches all the way to his heart.

It feels as if they are just picking up where they had left off.

He isn’t sure quite how long they stand there, with their lips and their hearts pressed together, but when Jemma finally takes a step back he sees that there are groups of parents streaming out of the hall around them, all of them trying desperately hard not to stare.

‘So,’ Jemma says a little breathlessly, as she looks up at him and Fitz can see the happiness shining in her eyes. ‘You finally let me use my words.’

A bubble of laughter rises in his chest but when he opens his mouth to apologise, to say sorry for being such a complete _arse_ this last year, Jemma only shakes her head to tell him he doesn’t have to and when she tugs forward on his shirt collar to bring him in to kiss her again, Fitz hears the largest cheer of the evening fill the early night air like starlight.

 

_year six_

‘Are you sure,’ Fitz asks, for the third time that evening, ‘that you’ve got everything?’

Sitting next to him in the passenger seat, Jemma nods. Her hands are folded in her lap and she is staring straight ahead out of the front windows. ‘Yes. Absolutely.’

Fitz glances back at the cardboard boxes stacked in the backseat and then watches her face, seeing the uncertainty flicker across her features, turning down the corner of her mouth and making her eyes water. ‘Jemma…are you _sure_?’

All at once, her resolve crumbles. ‘No,’ she wails, and unfastens her seatbelt with one hand before pushing the car door open with the other.

Fitz supresses the urge to drop his forehead onto the steering wheel in despair and sighs, before unfastening his own seatbelt to follow her back across the playground.

There is the same quiet, eerie feel to the empty school as there is in any abandoned building which, Fitz thinks as he trudges down the familiar hallway, isn’t really all that far off. The school is technically abandoned now, at least for the summer, until the autumn rolls around again and the children come back.

He and Jemma were supposed to have locked up the school and left over an hour ago, but every time they were sitting in the car ready to go, she wavered and they ended up having to go back for something she had forgotten. Fitz didn’t really mind, but he did have to admit that he was beginning to feel a bit impatient.

The long six weeks of summer holidays were stretching out before him, and he couldn’t wait to get home and start celebrating them with his daughter and his fiancée.

When he finds Jemma she is sitting cross-legged in her classroom in front of a cupboard, sorting through a box filled with mismatched pens and pencils, already with several tucked behind her ears and stuck in her hair.

Fitz groans and sinks down to sit on a desk. ‘Really? _That’s_ what we came back here for this time?’

‘I’m going to need pens over the summer, Fitz…’

‘You have pens! You have whole boxes of pens back home!’

‘I know, I know I do.’ Jemma glances up at him over her shoulder with a beseeching look in her eyes. ‘But I just need to check that I haven’t left any of the ones that I _need_ behind.’

He’s utterly helpless when she looks at him like that, and Fitz feels any frustration he’d had dissipate entirely. His shoulders slump and he manages to smile weakly at her. ‘Alright. I’ll wait.’

Jemma smiles gratefully back and returns to her box. Every time she runs her hand through the sea of pens, the late evening sun shining through the window catches the ring on her finger, making the diamond there wink at Fitz.

He feels his heart swell in his chest as he remembers the night, six months ago now, that he had gotten down on one knee to give it to her, watching as Jemma clamped her hand over her mouth, her eyes shining with delighted tears.

‘I’d use my words,’ he’d joked, ‘but you already know what they’re going to be.’

He’d said them anyway and she’d said yes, _yes yes a thousand times yes_ , and bent down to kiss him while he was still on one knee, sending them both tumbling to the ground in a tangle of tears and laughter and kisses.

‘Everything alright?’ Jemma asks, and Fitz realises that he must have been staring.

‘Yeah, fine. I was just thinking.’

‘Oh?’ She arches one eyebrow at him coyly. ‘And what were you thinking about?’

‘Time,’ Fitz says, simply. ‘I was just thinking about time, and how weird it is.’ When Jemma sits back on her heels and frowns at him, he continues. ‘I’ve spent six years coming here twice almost every day. And now Addie’s going to high school next year, I won’t be. And it’s just strange to think about that. To think that all that time has passed and now I won’t be coming here every day anymore.’

‘Oh,’ Jemma says lightly, putting her box down on the floor and getting to her feet. ‘I don’t think you ought to be worrying too much about _that_.’

This time, it is Fitz’s turn to frown, and she steps forward, almost shyly, to take his hand and thread his fingers through hers before looking up to meet his eyes.

‘By my calculations, you’ll be coming back here twice a day, almost every day, in about…ooh…’ She pauses, pretending to consider. ‘Four years?’

For a moment, Fitz can only stare at her as Jemma waits expectantly but then all the pieces click into place and he gasps.

‘You’re…you’re…?’

When she nods, a smile breaking out across her face, Fitz feels his heart flip over inside his chest and he whoops, before surging forward to pull her into him. He lifts her clear off her feet and spins them both around and around inside the tiny classroom before it suddenly occurs to him that maybe he ought not to be doing that, all things considered, and carefully lets her down again.

But Jemma is laughing and that makes him want to laugh too, both of them just as giddy in this moment as each other.

‘Are you sure?’ he asks, letting his fingers brush across the non-existent curve of her lower abdomen. ‘I mean, are you really sure?’

Jemma rolls her eyes, still bright with laughter, at him fondly. ‘ _Yes_ , Fitz. Even if I’ve not been sure of anything else tonight, of this I’m sure. I’m…’ She stops, takes a deep breath, and corrects herself. ‘ _We’re_ having a baby.’

‘We’re having a baby,’ Fitz repeats, feeling the grin start to creep back across his face.

Jemma squeezes his hands. ‘A little brother or sister for Addie. Do you think she’ll like that?’

‘She’ll love it,’ he says immediately, thinking of the way his daughter’s face will light up when she hears the news that her family is going to grow just a little bit bigger. ‘She’ll absolutely love it.’

Exhaling with relief, Jemma lets her forehead drop down onto his. ‘So…this is good news?’

Speechless, Fitz can only nod reaching up to cup her face with both his hands so that he can look into her eyes.

‘Yes,’ he breathes. ‘Yes, this is good news.’

Jemma’s smile flickers back into place and, with a surge of what he can only think to describe as indescribable love, she leans upwards and kisses him until Fitz can feel the press of her smile against his own.

 

‘I hope,’ Jemma teases later, as they walk back across the playground together. ‘That you’re not too disappointed.’

She has her arm tucked tightly under his, and Fitz brings her hand up to his lips to press gentle kisses to each of her fingertips.

‘What about this could I ever have to be disappointed about?’

‘About coming back to this place.’ She grins up at him playfully. ‘I hope the idea of having to spend yet _another_ six years here with me doesn’t fill you with too much dread.’

Shaking his head, Fitz stops and quickly slides his hand around and into the small of her back, bringing her closer into him so that he can kiss her again.

Jemma hadn’t been expecting this, and she wobbles a little, but his hands are holding her steady and she soon regains her balance, letting her arms slide around his neck as she kisses him eagerly back. As she runs her tongue around the inside of his mouth, exploring all the places she knows like the back of her hand, Fitz finds himself thinking that, in this moment, he must be the luckiest man on the planet.

‘I,’ he says quietly, as they pull apart just far enough for him to start pressing kisses to the corners of her mouth, ‘would quite happily come back here every day for the rest of my life.’

He kisses her again, and marvels at the way kissing Jemma has become as easy to him as knowing his ABCs.

‘Just as long as you’re here with me.’

 

 


End file.
